


Broken Heart, Broken Spirit

by Big_Geek



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Whump, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 16:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14084709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Geek/pseuds/Big_Geek
Summary: It was strange. Other than his family and the other hand full of people, others didn’t know about. What’s under Lance chest. Attached to his heart. What was keeping him alive.





	Broken Heart, Broken Spirit

Lance fell to the floor, faint. The fluttering in his chest was fast and irregular, like a hummingbird, almost. Moments before he felt the tell-tale fluttering, he felt his entire body gasp in need of oxygen. To live. To keep him alive.

Charging.

10…

The people around him stop, and call his name. Fear easy in the tone as they rush over. Calling for a simulation to end.

9…

Someone’s hand hovering and fluttering over his unconscious body.

8…

Someone with a warm hand and a cold smooth hand identifies the cause of his collapse.

7…

Trembling hands with adrenalin and concern quickly unbuckle the clasps of his paladin armour.

6…

People closer and farther away continue to call his Lance. Coming more desperate as time goes on.

5…

Another pair of hands hold onto his upper arm, to ground themselves.

4…

A cold and warm hand lands on his chest, preparing for CPR.

3…

The heels of those hand dig into his ribcage. Pumping his heart when his heart could not.

2…

They work in rhythm to a normal heartbeat. Spreading blood to the rest of his body.

1…

…

Shock.

Lance’s body convulsed as his heart was met with a current of electricity. Coughing and gasping for much needed air, pain blossoming in throbs. 

Instantly a warm hand wormed under his head and slowly sat him up. His face leaning against a solid chest, his ear hearing breathing and the elated heartbeat of said person, as their hand rubs up and down his back.

“What the hell was that!” someone yells over the rushing of blood in his ears. It sounded like Keith.

The person he was leaning against released a shuddering breath. 

“I don’t know”, after a moment, his hand never stopping their movement on his back, “call Coran. We will be in the Infirmary”.

Hurried footsteps next met his ears. Keith ran out of the room.

What was he doing before? He could smell sweat in the air and panting breaths, whether from his predicament or whatever they were doing before.

Training. With Keith and Shiro. 

Shit.

His heart gave out during training. Perfect.

Lance coughed against Shiro’s chest. “Can we continue training, please?” he asked, almost pleading, the words slightly muffled in Shiro’s chest. Searching for warmth as his body works to turn back towards the narrow homeostasis range. Back to normal range.

“Absolutely not” Was Shiro’s stern reply. Like a space dad he started calling him.

“I’m going to pick you up now, okay?” Shiro’s asked after a moment of silence. Lance nodded. 

A flesh hand and a metal hand snaked around his back and legs, with a huff, Shiro lifted him in the air and walked out of the room.

Lance gulped as he prepared to asked the question on his mind, 

“What happened?” he whispered. He knew, but he had to be sure.

Shiro walked on silently. Lance bouncing every now and again even though Shiro tries to keep it as steady as possible. 

“You collapsed.” Was Shiro’s simple answer, an emotion Lance couldn’t identify under the words.

Lance nodded against his chest. Too exhausted to lift his head back up. 

A door swished open, which Lance expected to be the Infirmary. 

“Oh dear,” Lance heard Coran from across the room, with a few whispered comments coming from the other occupants in the room, which he remembered was every other member of the Castleship. 

Lance’s back met the soft cushioning of Altean medical cots. In his blurry vision, he caught sight of everyones faces, tears in Hunk’s brown eyes. 

He listened to Coran, Allura and Shiro converse, if not, slightly muffled and chopped by the rushing of blood in his ears.

“He ju- collapsed”

“Has-done that-for”

“Is it- unknown- illness”

“I -n’t-know”

“I’ll fet-the scanner”

Lance sighed inwardly, he knew what it was. For godsake, he’s lived with it for years.

A Conduction Disorder.

Well, that’s what the doctor said.

He remembered the white walls, his heart beat sounding from the machine next to him and the fluid flowing directly into his bloodstream from the IV pole.

It was after he collapsed in P.E in primary school. From the reports his heart was fast and irregular, and the teacher had done the CPR while his peers ran to the office to retrieve the nurse and a defibrillator. 

He remembered being the talk of the week when he returned to school. 

After returning home with the knowledge of a this ‘broken heart’. His family treating him like glass as if he was going to drop dead at any second, to be honest, it wasn’t far from it. He couldn’t overexert himself too much. 

But, that couldn’t stop him. After all, athletes have heart problems all the time, and they still played. 

What’s stopping him from becoming what he always dreamed,

A pilot.

Like Takashi Shirogane. 

The doctors explained that for future purpose that he would have to have an ICD installed and would have to take medication.

He remembered asking what was an an ICD. 

They explained that it was an internal defibrillator. Cords surgically implanted into the heart to a defibrillator under the skin. A machine that detects the rhythm of his heart and shocks him when there was no heartbeat or irregular rhythm. Like in training less than an hour ago, he had an arrhythmia. When his heart was beating too fast and irregular, causing his very expensive ICD to shock him. 

Then he was in space. A seventh wheel, even more so when they find out about the ICD and his ‘problem’. A replaceable paladin. A no longer medicated paladin.

Lance felt the scanner move above him, the tingling from the lasers created a 3D of his insides. A 3D image that was going be to the view of everyone in the room.

“What in the fucking hell is that!” One of them yelled, probably Keith. It was Keith.

Again, Lance sighed inwardly. They’re probably wondering what the machine in his heart was. Probably thinking it was the work of the Galra. 

This was the end of his life as the Blue Paladin of Voltron.

“Why the hell does Lance have an ICD!?” Pidge shrieked, their head snapping to Lance’s non-chalant face.

Of course Pidge knew what is was. She always knows.

Lance huffed at the Voltron team dumbfounded faces of those who knew what it was and the confused looks of those who didn’t, and shuffled his body to turn the opposite direction to look at the other empty cots.

Might as well delay the inevitable. 

***

“It’s okay, you know” Shiro said behind him. Lance huffed and continued to stare at the empty cots, the beds details engraved into his mind from how long and intensely he stared at them. Mostly with a glare.

Lance didn’t care for what Shiro had to say. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what it is like to have the possibly to die anywhere or anytime. 

And he’s probably thinking that he’s upset that Lance thinks that they will treat him differently. 

So close, Space dad. So close.

No. He scared that the team kick him off it, no longer have the ability to go on missions, to live a little. Treating him differently is something people can’t control. He knows that last one far too well.

“We’re not going treat you differently, could you just tell Coran your prescription, please” Lance laughed, his chest bubbling in amusement. One; that’s bullshit, and Two; No.

Lance could hear the pity in Shiro’s voice. Probably the same feeling that everyone is feeling too. ‘Oh, poor Lance. That boy had such a bright future’ and ‘Oh, your poor baby boy. I guess he can’t be a pilot, but he could be a doctor, or a lawyer. Right Maria.’ Lance could hear those rotting voices of his mother’s friends ring in his head. Fuck them and their narrow minded views.

Shiro sighed in defeat behind him, Lance swears he could hear Shiro’s shoulders slump. 

“I’m not leaving until you talk” The ancient Altean chair creaked (in a way) to Shiro shifting his body. 

Lance hasn’t spoken since they found out. That was a varga ago. He saw their pitying looks from the reflection of a luckily placed medical mirror on the bench in the far corner. 

Pitying.

It’s Disgusting.

Lance rubbed his chest with his free hand, his finger detailing the muscled memory scar tissue when they opened his chest years ago for the surgery. He felt the zibloids? (well thats what Coran called them) strategically placed on his chest to monitor his heart rhythm, blood pressure and breathing. 

In which are being displayed on the wall above his head, which he is most certainly sure that Shiro is keeping an eye on it like a vulture circling its food.

Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep

His heartbeat rang in his mind, like all the other times that he memorised it from the hours, days, weeks in hospital. 

The faces he couldn’t remember of doctors, nurses, and staff. The names he tried to remember. 

Like the horrid days on that bed in Room 257. It was long enough that he though he was going to live in that room.

He doesn’t want that.

“It’s a conduction disorder” Lance starts, his breath shuddering. It was strange. Other than his family and the other hand full of people, others didn’t know about. What’s under Lance chest. Attached to his heart.

“A malfunction in the heart’s electrical system” Lance starts to fiddle with the white sheet, his fingers caressing the soft material. “I-I have arrhythmias, every now and again” 

He could feel the burn of Shiro’s eyes on him, absorbing every word that was coming out of his mouth. 

Lance let out another shuddering breath, he feels like he wants to cry. Just curl up on that bed and cry, sob, punch. To let out the shame he regularly felt when ever people knew and low-key become disappointed at him for something he can’t control. 

The disappointment. The replacement. The other wheel.

Unimportant to society.

Before he could control it, a sob ripped through his chest. Filled with so much hurt and pain it released other cries of emotion he’s bottled up for years. His ears heard Shiro stumble out of his chair to come around to his side, his eyes holding fatherly warmth he’s hasn’t experienced in months. 

“Hey,” Shiro begins. His onyx eyes wide in panic. “It’s okay.”

Twin tears fell down his face and the altean blankets soaking up the residue. Shiro’s human hand combing through his hair, the prosthetic massaging his arm.

“You’re okay.” Those words made and built of reassurance. 

And in that moment, Lance knew he was going to be okay too.


End file.
